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Buck’s recollection is a little fuzzy as the world starts coming back to him in fragmented, blurry pieces.
He was at the top of the ladder - he can’t quite remember why - and then there was blinding light and a blistering, white-hot pain, and Buck was falling. He remembers the sound of screaming, can still feel the echo of it inside his bones, and it could have been him but…that doesn’t feel right, for some reason.
And then nothingnothingnothing.
—————
The first thing Buck hears is an incessant beeping, like an alarm but not quite. And then there’s a voice, familiar even though he can’t place it instantly - like coming back home when you’ve been gone for so long, and you wouldn’t recognise it except for the way your body remembers.
“You’re joking?”
The voice is angry.
It’s restrained, controlled, but Buck knows - can tell because he knows who it belongs to better than he knows anybody else in this world.
“You are so self-“
He’s only getting one stilted half of a conversation, so they must be on the phone.
Buck feels for whoever is on the receiving end of Eddie Diaz’s quiet, simmering rage, because it certainly is a thing to behold.
Especially when Buck’s eyes slowly flutter open, heavy and tired, as if they haven’t been exercised for far too long. It takes a moment for his vision to stop swimming, but when his gaze falls on Eddie, he sees the look on his face - the exhaustion, and the fear, and the wrath.
Eddie doesn’t notice Buck watching him as he paces back and forth at the foot of the hospital bed. He pushes a hand though his hair for what looks like the millionth time, and then he scrunches his eyes closed while pinching the bridge of his nose.
When his hand drags down the side of his face, Buck can see it shaking.
“He’s your fucking son.” Eddie’s voice cracks, and he looks upwards as if he’s praying to anyone that will listen.
Buck frowns and it feels weird on his face, like he really has been out of it for a while and his muscles are no longer used to moving.
He can’t figure out who Eddie could be talking to with that much anger - can’t work out who Eddie would want to protect so fiercely, other than Chris.
Chris.
Buck doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but Chris has got to be worrying. He’s done this too many times before. First with Shannon, and then with Eddie, when that bullet tore through him and almost tore their lives apart. But - it’s not the same, of course. Buck isn’t Christopher’s parent, it’s just. It’s just Buck loves him so much he aches with it. Loves both of them so-
“You’re a disgraceful excuse for parents,” Eddie hisses down the phone, his hand now clenched into a fist.
Buck has a sudden, overwhelming urge to comfort him. To fix whatever is wrong, because that’s exactly what Buck has always done; it’s what they do for each other.
The lines between Eddie’s brows, and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes, tell the story of a man who’s carrying the weight of the world on his back. A weight that Buck wants to help him hold, if only to see some of the tension leave Eddie’s shoulders - some of the fear escape the clasp of his fist.
“You know what - no, no you’ve said your piece, and now you’re going to listen to me.”
He sits down in a chair that’s been pushed up against the wall, his eyes closed and hand trembling where it’s resting on his knee. He takes a deep breath.
“Buck-“ Eddie says, and Buck almost startles at the sound of his name. “Buck has somehow found a way to be the most incredible person I’ve ever met, and I have to believe that’s because of Maddie and his sheer fucking stubbornness, because it sure as shit has nothing to do with you two.”
Buck wants to move - wants to say something, anything, so Eddie knows that he’s awake. That he can hear every word that he’s saying. But something is holding Buck’s tongue hostage, and he can’t find a way to make his mouth move.
He remains silent and still, and just listens.
“He’s lay in a fucking hospital bed right now, and you can’t even be bothered - no - no, I’m not finished yet,” he insists.
His voice is quiet, and steady, and furious. There’s a pink flush on the highest points of his cheekbones, and his mouth and eyebrows are pinched and tense.
“You don’t deserve him,” Eddie says. “You never have, and you never will.”
And then he hangs up the phone and lets out a ragged breath - one it sounds like he’s been holding for much longer than the length of that conversation.
It makes Buck’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch him. He’s reached through fire and over cliff sides, across blood-soaked asphalt and between a decades worth of trauma, all for Eddie. This - this is nothing.
“-ddie.”
Buck’s voice is slurred and his tongue heavy; the words feel like they’re sticking to the back of his throat as if they aren’t ready to be spoken yet.
But Eddie hears him, all the same.
His gaze flashes to Buck so quickly that it almost looks like a trick of his imagination. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. He looks, for a moment. Just looks, with astonishment and disbelief and relief, written all over his face.
And then he’s at Buck’s bedside so quickly, that if Buck had blinked then he would have missed it.
Eddie’s hands are clumsy as they touch Buck - skimming over his chest, his shoulders, down his arms. He goes for Buck’s hands but then stops himself; he reaches for his face, but pulls back.
”Buck.” Eddie’s voice is barely a sigh, but it brings a lazy smile to Buck’s face all the same.
Buck hums in acknowledgment. “Hi.”
The sound Eddie makes is halfway between a laugh and a sob. And then he’s crying, the tears pouring down his face faster than he can wipe them away. But he’s laughing too, a shuddering, desperate show of relief.
Buck doesn’t know how bad it was - how long he’s left them alone for - but for Eddie to react like this, if must have been a pretty close call.
“Hi,” Eddie replies. “God, Buck. Hi.”
“It’s good to see you,” Buck tells him. Because it may as well have only been seconds for Buck, since he last saw Eddie, but that phrase will always be true. He will always be happy to see him.
Eddie laughs again, shaking his head like he can’t believe the sight in front of him. And from the exhaustion in the tired droop of his shoulders, and the wondrous relief in his eyes, Buck thinks maybe it was really bad this time. Maybe this life was almost over for him.
And - by the sound of it - his parents haven’t even been to see him.
“Fuck, it’s good to see you,” Eddie says, the tremor in his voice passing through his entire body. “I should - I should call for the doctor -“
Eddie moves like he’s about to press the call button, and Buck just - he reaches out for him, finally. Crosses the small, infinite space between them, and rests his hand on Eddie’s forearm. Eddie stops moving, but Buck can feel the way he’s still shaking.
“Just - wait, please?” Buck asks. “I just want to be here with you, for a minute.”
Buck feels too fragile - feels so, painfully human. Something happened, and he was almost gone, and his parents aren’t here but Eddie is. Eddie is here. He stayed.
And there’s something so big about it all, that makes Buck feel so very small.
He just needs a minute, here with Eddie. Just a moment to catch his breath and process all of this, without strangers poking and prodding him, and asking questions that Buck is scared he won’t know the answers to. About what happened, what he remembers, what day it is. Buck doesn’t know.
But he knows that Eddie is here, and he hasn’t moved away from Buck’s touch, and he’s looking at him like he can’t believe this moment is happening, either.
“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “Okay, we can take a minute, Buck.”
And really, isn’t that what being with Eddie has always been like? Like coming up for air after almost drowning. Taking a moment to shed all of his burdens and just be. Breathing, like it’s okay if that’s the only thing he does in that moment.
Being around Eddie is just - existing in the way Buck was always supposed to exist. Living a life that feels worth it.
“Are you okay?” Buck asks, his sandpaper tongue causing him to cough.
Eddie laughs. “Am I - god, Buck. Am I okay? Are you kidding?”
Buck shrugs. His body aches, but in a stiff way rather than a broken way, and he figures all of this could have been much worse, really. Though you wouldn’t believe it with the way Eddie can’t look away from him, as if Buck might slip away if he so much as blinks.
“I’m -“ Eddie pauses, closing his eyes and releasing a shaky breath, before opening them again and saying, “I’m okay. I’m okay, now.”
Buck tightens his hand on Eddie’s arm - talking without words, like they’ve always been so good at doing.
Buck can feel the heaviness of this - can sense just how much it’s been weighing on Eddie. How much it must have been weighing on all of them. He wants to see his sister, wants to see Chris and Jee, Chim and Hen and Ravi, Bobby and Athena and Karen. He wants to see his family.
He’s not sure what it says about him that he doesn’t count his parents in that.
He opens his mouth to try and speak, but the words catch in his mouth and he starts coughing again. Eddie is gentle when he slowly sits the bed up just a little. He holds a cup of water up to Buck’s mouth - puts the straw between his lips and keeps hold of it while Buck drinks until it no longer feels like he’s swallowed ash.
“Thanks,” Buck says, and Eddie puts the cup down without looking away.
“Are you okay?”
Buck smirks. “I’m always okay.”
But the arrogance that statement usually holds is gone. Especially when Eddie flinches, his brows furrowing and his mouth twisting into a grimace.
“Was that my parents on the phone?” Buck asks, because he’s not sure if he’s ready for the conversation it looks like Eddie wants to have.
Eddie’s expression shifts into one of anger, like he’d been wearing earlier when Buck first woke up. He nods, his lips in a flat line like he’s trying to hold back some choice words. It almost makes Buck smile, the way Eddie is so clearly furious on his behalf. The way he defended Buck when he wasn’t around to defend himself. It makes Buck feel wanted. Loved. Worthy.
Buck takes his hand back from Eddie’s arm and scratches his face, frowning when he feels the patchy stubble that’s started to grow in. Eddie chuckles, stretching out a hand to brush the back of his index finger along Buck’s prickly jawline.
They both go still; Buck’s breath caught in an exhale, Eddie’s heartbeat visible through the thin fabric of his worn t-shirt. Buck’s t-shirt, he can’t help but notice.
The moment lasts for another beat, and then Eddie pulls away and slips both of his hands in his pockets.
Buck clears his throat. “What were you talking about?”
“Buck, I don’t think-“
“-they haven’t been to see me, have they?” Buck hates how small he sounds as he asks.
Eddie’s jaw tightens, and Buck can see the veins in his forearms protruding as if he’s clenching his fists in his pockets. It’s answer enough, but he wants to hear it anyway. Wants to know what excuse they gave this time, or if they even bothered with one at all.
“Listen, I think-“
“-please, Eddie,” Buck begs. “Just tell me.”
He shakes his head. It’s so slight it’s almost imperceptible, but Buck has gotten good at watching Eddie - at seeing the things he doesn’t want anyone else to see.
“No, they haven’t been to see you,” Eddie admits, anger and guilt swirling in the depths of his irises. “We tried - me and Maddie, we tried. But they, uh. They said they couldn’t see you like this.”
Of course they couldn’t. Of course Buck’s life still comes second to Daniel’s death - of course his suffering matters less than their grief. He’s not sure why he ever expected anything different.
His heart breaks for the two people who lost their little boy, it really does.
But his heart breaks more for the kids they left behind when their grief swallowed them whole. He and Maddie - just babies themselves - needed their parents, but they got phantoms instead; the residual energy of people who used to be there but now were gone. They got the leftover dregs of a love that died when Daniel did.
It’s not fair, he wants to cry.
It’s like he’s seven again, and no one showed up to his parent-child breakfast morning at school. Like he’s fifteen, and they’re not there to see him win at the science fair. Like he’s twenty-six, in hospital after having his leg crushed, and all he gets is a voicemail they left while he was in surgery.
He’s spent his whole life hoping and hoping and hoping that they’ll show up for him, and being disappointed every single time, even though he already knows what the outcome will be.
They keep proving to Buck, over and over again, exactly what kind of people they are. They keep telling him without words how little they care about him. Buck should be used to it by now, after a lifetime of trying to compete with a ghost.
But it guts him, anyway. A violent, vicious kind of pain that carves right at the core of him - keeps sawing off little pieces of his heart, every fucking time.
He’s scared that one day there’ll be nothing left of him to chip away at.
But then Eddie is reaching out, a gentle hand on Buck’s shoulder like an anchor keeping him from floating away. Always steady, always certain; Buck’s safe harbour in the middle of a storm.
Buck covers Eddie’s hand with his own, squeezing his fingers for something to hold onto.
“It’s okay,” Buck lies.
“No,” Eddie argues. “No, it’s fucking not okay.”
And yeah, he’s right. It’s not.
But Buck can’t spend his whole life chasing after them if they don’t want to be caught. Everything that ever left Buck went with claw marks on it - reminders of his desperate, frantic attempt to hold onto something that was never made for him.
Maybe it’s time that he just lets go.
Especially when he has a real family here in LA. One who shows up for him, who fights alongside him, who loves him without any prerequisites or expectations. Without conditions he has to meet before he can be rewarded with a scrap of attention or affection or love.
Buck had heard Eddie tell his parents that they never deserved him, and perhaps he was right. Maybe Buck doesn’t deserve them, either. Maybe he deserves better.
“You’re right,” Buck says. “But there’s nothing anyone can do to change it. They made their choice, now it’s time for me to make mine.”
“They still should have been here,” Eddie insists. “You were fucking gone, Buck, and I-“
“-wait, what?”
He was gone? Gone, as in-
“You flatlined, Buck. I - I got you down from the ladder, and then Hen and Chim, they-” He pauses, his voice shaking too much. “I had to watch them do CPR on you.”
He looks haunted. It’s as if he can see a replay of that night as he explains to Buck what happened - how they got here. His hand is still on Buck’s shoulder, and he can feel the tremor in it as Eddie scrunches his eyes closed. Buck squeezes his fingers again, supporting him in the only way he can.
“Fuck, Eddie,” Buck whispers, the sound of his voice bringing Eddie’s eyes back to him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Eddie laughs, and it’s a self-deprecating sound. Shaking his head, he says, “I prayed for you…and you know how I feel about god.”
Buck’s heart stumbles inside his chest.
He thinks back to that hazy memory he had as he was waking up. The screaming, the way he could still feel it, reverberating through his body like a second heartbeat.
It was Eddie.
Eddie, screaming for him. Eddie, risking his life for Buck’s. Eddie, watching Buck die right in front of his eyes.
The reverse - the sight of Eddie dying in front of him - is something plucked from Buck’s nightmares.
It’s the well collapse, and the way Buck can still feel the mud, slick beneath his fingernails as he clawed through it. It’s the shooting, and the way he can still taste the salty-copper of Eddie’s blood on his tongue as he crawled to him. It’s that night in Eddie’s house, where Buck can still hear Christopher’s panic, and Eddie’s sobs as Buck tried to bring him down off the ledge.
So he knows how Eddie felt that night. He knows it feels like having your heart cracked open and emptied out. And for Eddie to pray for him, to a god who Eddie hasn’t believed in since he was a kid? Buck knows that desperation, too. He just hates that Eddie ever had to feel it.
“I’m here,” Buck reassures him. “I’m here, I didn’t die.”
“You were gone for three minutes, Buck. You’ve been gone, for over a week.”
Over a week. That’s how long Buck has been lying here. It’s how long his family has been worrying about him. Maddie and Chris. Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
“I’m here now,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere - not if I can help it.” He’d never leave them behind if he had a choice.
Once upon a time there was a Buck who thought his life wasn’t worth living - that this world around him would be better if he wasn’t in it. He isn’t that person anymore; he has too much to live for. And as long as there’s breath in his body, he will always fight to make it back to this family that he’s built.
“I was so scared.” The confession is barely a murmur on Eddie’s lips. “I thought you were gone. I thought we were out of time.”
Buck can barely breathe past the lump in his throat as he asks, “Time for what?”
Eddie is careful as he sits on the bed beside Buck. There’s barely enough room, but Buck shifts his legs so Eddie can perch beside him. He picks up Buck’s hand, his touch gentle yet firm as he begins to massage Buck’s palm, up to his wrist, down his fingers. Once Eddie’s finished, he repeats it with the other hand.
Then he holds it between both of his and brings up to his mouth, kissing Buck’s knuckles with a feather-light touch.
“For us.”
Everything stops.
It feels like Buck is free falling, but he knows someone is waiting at the end to catch him.
“That is, I mean - that’s where this is going, right? Where it’s always be going?” Eddie sounds nervous, and he keeps looking between Buck’s face and their hands, like he can’t hold the eye contact.
And this - it’s perhaps the most surreal thing Buck has ever felt. Because Buck has wanted Eddie for longer than he can remember. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment he realised, but by the time he did he was already in love with him. And he’d hoped, prayed, wished on shooting stars, that maybe, just maybe, Eddie felt this thing between them, too.
But the reality of it is so much better, so much sweeter, than anything Buck could have ever imagined.
“Yeah, Eddie,” Buck says. “This is exactly where it’s always been going.”
Eddie’s answering smile is the first sunrise of spring, when everything feels good and warm and new. It thaws the ice that Buck’s parents had left around his heart, and it heals the cracks in his bones from all the aching that came before.
Buck tugs on their joined hands to bring Eddie closer, and his smile widens even more when he realises what Buck wants - when he tilts his chin out in search of Eddie’s mouth on his. Eddie is more than happy to oblige.
He’s closing in, and Buck’s heart is beating too fast in his chest, in anticipation of finally, finally kissing his best friend. Eddie is so close, and Buck wants him so much, and-
“Hey Eddie, how’s - oh my god.” Hen freezes in the doorway.
Buck and Eddie jerk apart, Eddie standing so quickly that Buck has to reach out and grab his hand to stop him from falling over. Buck uses his other hand to cover his mouth, holding back the laugh that’s trying to erupt from his chest at the sight of Hen’s face.
But then he hears his big sister’s voice.
Maddie’s out of Buck’s view, but he hears her panicked, “What? What’s going on? Is-“
She pushes past Hen, and then her eyes flash around the room, eventually landing on Buck. She’d have fallen to the floor if Hen didn’t reach out to steady her in time.
The sound - the sight - of Maddie crying cracks Buck’s heart straight down the middle.
He tries to scramble out of bed, to get to her, but Eddie’s hands on his chest and thigh keep him from moving. He’d be mad, maybe, but he still hasn’t seen the doctor yet, and Eddie is just looking out for him, and Eddie wants him, so-
“It’s okay, it’s okay - I’m alright,” Buck promises her. “Come here, I’m okay.”
Maddie rushes to Buck’s other side, and she’s much less gentle than Eddie had been when she throws herself onto his chest. He can see the flicker of concern in Eddie’s eyes, the way his hands hover in midair as if he’s considering moving Maddie aside. So Buck just laughs, wraps one around his big sister while he holds Eddie’s hand with the other.
“I’m okay, Mads. I promise.”
“I could kill you right now, Evan,” she mumbles as she pulls back to glare at him.
Buck grins right back at her.
“Missed you, too,” he says. Then, “Missed you as well, Hen.” She walks closer, leaning down to hug Buck as soon as Maddie steps to the side.
“If I ever have to do CPR on you again, I’m gonna break your ribs on purpose, Buckley.”
There are tears in her eyes as she sniffles, adjusting her glasses and frowning at Buck through the lenses.
“That seems like a fair deal,” he agrees, grinning. “Thank you.”
She clears her throat, rolling her eyes and waving her hand at him as if to downplay the weight of what she did for him. As if she didn’t literally bring him back from the dead.
“Yeah, well. Eddie would have killed me if I let you die, so.”
They all laugh at that. And while Buck can see Maddie and Hen keep looking between him, Eddie, and their joined hands, neither of them say anything about it.
He’s not sure if it’s because they don’t know what to say, or if it’s because they’re not even surprised.
“The doctor still needs to see you,” Eddie reminds them all, and Buck rolls his eyes.
That earns a light slap to whatever part of his body they can reach, from every person in the room. Buck laughs again, just completely overjoyed with the people in his life who love him this much.
“Can everyone else come after I see the doctor?” He asks, looking up at Eddie with the same eyes that have always gotten Buck his own way with him.
He’s expecting Eddie to scoff, to roll his own eyes, or make some typical smartass comment.
What he doesn’t expect is the tender way Eddie cups his chin and brushes his thumb over his cheek. Maddie and Hen are definitely watching, but Eddie doesn’t seem to care - he just wants to touch Buck, maybe to make sure this is real. That Buck is here, and he’s okay, and they have each other.
“Yeah, of course.”
The doctor is thorough as she questions Buck, then shines a light in his eyes and gets him to follow it around. She wants to do scans in a few hours, once his brain has had more time to come around, but for now she thinks he’s incredibly lucky.
Buck could have already told her that - just look at the people surrounding him.
Bobby and Athena are the first to arrive.
Athena holds his face between her hands, kisses his forehead with the gentleness of a mother, and says, “Love you, baby.”
Buck doesn’t even pretend he isn’t crying.
And then Bobby hugs him too, tight and warm, as he says, “I missed you, kid.”
Chim shows up next, flushed and breathless with baby Jee in his arms. He stops dead when he walks into the room, like he couldn’t believe it until he saw Buck for himself. Jee offers Buck a wave. Chim smiles so softly and he holds his daughter a little closer to him, and he says, “It’s good to see you, Buck.”
But then his eyes find Buck and Eddie’s hands, still clasped together and resting on top of Buck’s thigh. He stares at them for a solid thirty seconds, then looks between Buck and Eddie, and then finally, to Hen.
They do that thing they so often do, where they have a whole conversation in a single glance. But then Hen is sighing, closing her eyes as she tips her head back again the wall.
“Go on, say it.”
Chim bites his lip. Looks at Buck again, then Eddie, then Hen.
“I called it! I told you - didn’t I tell you?”
Everyone groans. And then they’re all laughing, loud voices talking over each other - mentions of betting pools and group chats and fucking theories.
It’s so ridiculous, and Buck feels so stupidly fond of them all. So fucking lucky that these are his people and this is his life, and he gets to keep living it with them. Forever, if he can wrangle it.
“Buck.”
The voice is soft, quiet, but it travels through the room and Buck hears it above everyone and everything else.
Chris is standing in the door, Carla behind him with a hand on his shoulder. His eyes are wide and filled with tears, and his bottom lip quivers in a way that devastates Buck.
“Hey, buddy,” Buck says.
Chris flies at him, crossing the room as fast as he possibly can and then flopping down on his chest like Maddie had done. Buck holds him back - kisses his curls again and again, and let’s Chris cry on him.
“I missed you so much,” he murmurs.
“I missed you, too, Chris,” Buck tells him.
“Dad said - he told me you might not wake up.” His voice cracks, and Buck searches for Eddie. When their gaze meets, Eddie’s are filling with tears too, and he doesn’t hide it as he wipes them off his cheeks.
Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand and holds Chris tighter.
“I’m so sorry. But I did, Chris. I did wake up. I’m right here, okay, buddy?”
He feels Chris nod against his chest. “Okay. I love you.”
Buck swallows down his own tears, doesn’t want to start crying for fear that he’ll never be able to stop. Not when everyone else in the room is crying, too. His voice is thick with emotion when he replies, “I love you, too.”
But when Buck finds Eddie again - always, always finding Eddie, through fires, and mud, and across every single room - a few tears escape the corner of his eye, anyway.
Eddie brushes them away for him, and then he mouths I love you, and Buck has everything he’ll ever need, right here in this room.